The Assassination of Gracie White
by RFLupin
Summary: .unfortunately ON HOLD. He did it for the thrill of the chase. There was no love in it. TROC, UPDATE: 8.6.08 chap. 3
1. Moonlight Sonata

**Title:** The Assassination of Gracie White

**Author:** R. F. Lupin

**Warnings:** violence, bad language, mature themes

**Summary:** He did it for the thrill of the chase; there was no love in it. TROC

**Disclaimer:** Just borrowing.

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_Chapter 1 – Moonlight Sonata_

In the orphanage where he was born and raised, there was a girl who fascinated Tom Marvolo Riddle. She was about his age, maybe a little older, and very pretty. That wasn't what was interesting, though. He'd seen plenty of pretty girls, all of them Muggles, Muggleborns, and Mudbloods.

What fascinated the young boy were her hands.

They first caught his attention at breakfast one morning, while they ate their meager portion of oatmeal and bread. They drummed out a pattern on the tabletop, a pattern he could not recognize. She saw that he was watching, smiled guiltily, and then returned to eating.

The next time he saw them, they were braiding the yarn hair of one of the rag dolls in the playroom. They moved swiftly, this way and that, and formed a perfect plait. He stared, and once again, she stopped.

And then, a few weeks later, he saw them for the last, and the most captivating, time. They were dancing over the ivory and ebony keys of the old piano, turning out a slow, mournful tune. One, two, three, one, two, three, went the left hand, over and over, the deep notes laying the foundation for the sweet grace of the right hand, the one that picked out the melody. Tom wandered over to the girl, her hands, and the piano as though in a daze. He stared, and for once, she didn't stop.

"What song is that?" he asked.

"It's Beethoven," she replied. "Adagio from the piano sonata number 14 in C sharp minor."

He didn't understand what the words meant, but locked them away in his memory all the same. The little girl grinned and added,

"Or the Moonlight Sonata, if you can't remember all that."

She went back to playing, completely unconcerned with his incessant staring, the way he gazed hungrily on her hands, as though he would very much like to steal them and keep them for himself.

"Can you teach me?"

The words were out before he could stop himself. She smiled, and patted the bench beside her. Awkwardly, Tom sat down and watched again. She played the song very slowly, and showed him where to place his hands, which keys to push, and when to push them. He tried very hard, but no matter what, it just didn't sound the same. His hands didn't look like hers, so quick and graceful and sure.

He couldn't make the music come like she could.

A few days later, he heard her playing again. The song was different this time, a tripping little song that wavered back and forth between two notes and then flowed down into a romantic, gorgeous melody. He watched her again, asked for the name of the piece. Für Elise, she told him, also by Beethoven.

And then he did something which even many decades later, he could not understand. He summoned one of the heavy wooden blocks the babies played with and sent it crashing down on her beautiful, graceful hands. He made it happen again and again until her shrieks of pain brought the nurses running, and was lost in the ensuing confusion.

The little girl was sent to another orphanage that week, and as Tom Riddle found out, was never able to play the piano again.

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_**A/N:** Me, writing a non-Bill fic? What is this madness?_

_I've had this idea for a while, and since I've been feeling particularly angsty lately, and this is a particularly angsty fic, I thought I'd get started on it._

_And, just so you know, the girl whose hands he just mashed was not Gracie White. She's coming later. _

_Reviews are love._


	2. Birds and Bees

**Warnings:** innuendo, Tom Riddle (two things that should never go together but alas… I did it), and bad language

**Disclaimer:** Just borrowing.

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_Chapter 2 – Birds and Bees_

_September, 1944_

Tom Riddle prided himself on his knowledge. He was a bright, eager young man with a desire to learn, and he already knew about many things: potions, astronomy, powerful Dark magic. There was one subject, however, that Tom Riddle was completely clueless about.

Girls.

This hadn't been a problem until very recently. During his first few years of schooling, every one of his so-called friends had thought girls were "icky", and that suited him just fine. Girls had been, and would always be, icky. Now, though, most of his peers were singularly focused on the opposite sex at all times. Tom couldn't get a word in edgewise about the complicated Transfiguration notes being given out by that absolute _dolt_ of a professor named Dumbledore, or the next time they were going to need his help with Potions (again), or even inquiring about the blasted time!

And the girls themselves were a bit of a hassle, too. Just like the boys, they had avoided contact with the opposite gender for the first few years. It seemed to Tom that they now sprang out of nowhere and were constantly hurling themselves at everything with legs. Or arms. Or anything, really. It was sickening.

Tom considered all this as he strolled down the hallway to his next class, Charms, with his group of rabid acolytes in tow. He came to the conclusion that he would never understand everyone else's need for constant companionship. It was better to be alone, wasn't it? It was easier to just rely on yourself instead of having to wait around for others to get off their asses and actually do what they were supposed to.

And he certainly had no time for the foolish pursuit of _love_. He despised the very word. Love was for the stupid and weak, and he did not consider himself to be either of those things.

Reaching his class, Tom selected at seat in the front of the room and began to rummage around in his schoolbag for parchment and quills. His followers filled in around him, watching him for clues about what to do. Some of the braver ones turned to talk to classmates who were not part of his inner circle, while the whimpier ones took out their books and then stared blankly at him, as though waiting for their next set of instructions.

He ignored them. He was far too busy reviewing last class's notes, and making sure he had read the correct chapter for homework. Doing well in school was one of the few things he cared about, and he had forced himself to become an exemplary student because he knew he would gain the most knowledge that way.

He would take what he needed from these idiotic professors and then be gone, off to do all the things that they spoke of with hushed tones and ominous warnings. The kinds of things his classmates with weaker constitutions shuddered to hear, things that until he did them would be nothing more than whispers, half formed ideas too frightening to conceive.

His thoughts were interrupted then by a loud ruckus from the back of the room.

"And it flew probably fifty feet! I swear to Merlin it was the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my whole life!"

Angrily, Tom gripped his quill tighter and tried to ignore the shouts, which he knew were spewing from the mouth of the star Gryffindor Beater, Donavan Marks.

Donavan was the kid of person Tom hated the most, if such a thing could be said. Everyone in school knew who he was, and while he was not admired and slightly feared like Tom himself was, Donavan was genuinely well liked. He excelled at sports, but was no great shake when it came to academics. People would forgive him when he made mistakes; there was always one last chance for him, but never one for Tom. He had to calculate every move, every step had to be meticulously planned and flawlessly executed.

And, to top it all of, he was a Mudblood.

"Damn, I wish I would have gone, but I had bloody Potions," said Donavan's best friend Malcolm Carrs, who was inferior to Donavan in every imaginable way. "Slughorn gave me extra work because I was the one that caused the fire last week."

Gritting his teeth, Tom scratched harder at his piece of parchment, leaving a big blot and completely obscuring the correction pronunciation of the Cheering Charm. Beside him, one of his acolytes, Avery, noticed his frustration and called over to the raucous Gryffindors,

"Some of us are trying to study, would you mind shutting your traps so we can concentrate?"

While Malcolm and others protested loudly, Donavan nodded guiltily and lowered his voice. Avery then looked triumphantly back at Tom, as though he expected to be given a cookie for his efforts.

Riddle ignored him, however. He had not asked for anyone to help him, and certainly did not feel that Avery had done anything worthy of recognition. If he was looking for a leader who was going to give out candy and rewards every time they parroted an answer back correctly, then he was barking up the wrong tree.

Professor Tofty came in then, striding to the front of the room and calling for silence. Everyone turned to the front and listened attentively. Professor Tofty, while he wasn't strict by any means, did hold his students to a high standard and expected everyone to give their best effort while they were in his class. Tom couldn't decide if he liked the man or not, but the rest of the class usually ranked him among their top three favorite teachers.

Today's lesson was a review of Hovering Charms, and Tom had the misfortune of being paired with Malcolm Carrs. After successfully completing his part of the assignment ("Describe the effects of a properly applied Charm"), he was forced to be the recipient of said Charm. Malcolm was, simply put, a slow-learner, and it took two tries for him to remember the correct pronunciation, and another four for him to wave his wand correctly, and a final three for him to put the two together. Tom levitated over his seat for a few seconds, then came crashing down as Malcolm let out a cheer of excitement at finally having done the thing right.

"Sorry," he muttered, fumbling with his book as he tried to find the page again.

"Don't bother," Tom said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"I've never done it right before," Malcolm said, as though this would somehow excuse his actions.

"Perhaps you should practice more," Tom replied, gathering up his things as the bell rang. "I find the library is a good place to study."

With that, he swept out of the room. At the door, he nearly ran into Donavan, causing him to drop all his books.

"Terribly sorry," Tom said, hoping his simpering tone would go unnoticed. He didn't bend to down to help him pick up the dropped things, either.

"'S all right, I'm waiting for someone anyway," Donavan said. Tom didn't see how that was important, and was about to leave when he bumped into someone else.

"Watch where you're going," came the sharp voice, and Tom knew instantly who it was: Bethany Mueller, token tramp and resident dumb blonde of Hogwarts. She was also Malcolm's girlfriend, and Tom had heard a rumor that they had gotten to third base.

Whatever that meant.

"I was, you should be more careful," he insisted. Bethany glared and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.

"Bethany, have you seen Gracie?" Donavan said behind him, having collected all his things. She glanced at him, still managing glaring at Tom, thought for a moment and said,

"Yes, she said she'll be a bit late. She had to talk to Professor Dumbledore about something."

"Damn it," Donavan cursed.

"No need for language, I'm here," a small voice called, and the little group turned to see a small brunette jogging to where they were standing. As she approached, she addressed Donavan. "I just had to check with him about practice tonight, that was all."

By practice, Tom assumed she meant her classes and was ready to dismiss her as another of Bethany Mueller's retarded hangers-on, but what she said next convinced him otherwise.

"He says I probably don't need it, that the Beethoven's coming along fine, but I just wanted to be sure."

"Beethoven?" Tom said before he could stop himself, and regretted it instantly. Donavan, Bethany and Gracie all turned and looked strangely at him, as though he had suddenly appeared out of thin air and was sporting an extra limb. To cover the awkward silence that followed, he said, "I didn't know you played Beethoven."

It was such a moronic comment he felt he should have been hit for saying it, but Gracie's face changed from bemused to amused and she replied happily,

"Yes, I'm playing it for my recital."

"Which Beethoven?" Tom asked, feeling very stupid but helplessly unable to stem his curiosity.

"Sonata in D Major for violin," she said, and his interest vanished. She wasn't playing the ones he liked, or even the instrument. She didn't seem to notice this though, and added shyly, "I didn't know you liked classical music."

"I don't," Tom said harshly, but continued when he saw the hurt look on her face, "I just know a few pieces by Beethoven, that's all."

"Which ones, I probably know them," Gracie said, perking up again. "I play the piano, too."

"Moonlight Sonata," he said delicately.

"Everyone likes that one," Gracie said with a laugh, and Tom smiled humorlessly.

"Grace, we have to leave now," Bethany said suddenly, causing everyone to look her way. "You're going to be late. Good day, Tom."

The use of his first name was galling for some reason, and he found himself glaring after her as she, Donavan and Gracie swept down the hallway, the latter waving cheerfully to him and calling good-bye.

His small group caught up to him then, and he called Avery to his side as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"What do you know about that girl?" he demanded as he pointed at Gracie's retreating form.

"Gracie White," Avery replied, sounding bored. "Sixth year Ravenclaw. Why?"

"No reason," Tom said dismissively, sitting down at the Slytherin table and helping himself to the steak-and-kidney pudding. Avery and the rest filled in around him, the former saying tauntingly,

"Do you like her?"

Tom slammed his fork down and said angrily,

"I said there wasn't a reason. Now drop it."

Avery had the good sense not to laugh or make another comment on the subject, and ate his meal in silence. Sufficed, Tom turned back to his food and tried to put Gracie out of his mind.

Of course he didn't like her. He didn't like anyone. But, she _was_ interesting, in the way the Potions or Transfiguration was interesting. She was something to explore, to study, to test the boundaries of. She could be like a project, a little something to entertain him. She was interesting in that way, yes, but he had no feelings for her otherwise.

He was just going to use her the way he used everyone else: take what he needed and throw away the rest.

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_**A/N:**_ _Feel the awkwardness and seething angst that is Tom Riddle! Feel it, I command you!_

_And I just picked a random name for the Charms prof, since the only three we're sure of while Tom was in school are Dumbles, Sluggy and Headmaster Dippet. I think one of the OWL examiners was called Tofty, but they aren't the same. shifty eyes_

_Reviews are love._


	3. Practice Makes Perfect

**Warnings: **bad language, Tom Riddle

**Disclaimer:** Just borrowing

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_Chapter 3 – Practice Makes Perfect_

Over the next few weeks, Tom watched Grace from a distance. He found out her class schedule, took note of who her friends were, and tried to surmise what he could about her character from the brief exchanges they had when ever she spoke to him. She mentioned once that she preferred being called Gracie because it sounded sweeter, and even though Tom thought the sentiment was nauseatingly saccharine, he obliged.

He gathered that she was the perfect target: sweet, caring, and naively trusting. There were no huge traumas in her life, he concluded; she had been one of those happy children he kept hearing about.

October came, and it was then that he decided to start actively pursuing her. One day after his own Potions class let out, he ditched his group of hangers-on and positioned himself outside the Charms room. She'd be finished in about five minutes, and it was one of the few classes she didn't have with Donavan, who, despite being thicker than a stack of bricks, was not someone Tom fancied getting into a fight with.

The bell rang, and was followed by the mighty groan of dozens of chairs being simultaneously shoved. As the door swung open, Tom began to walk away, acting as though he'd been innocently passing by as her class let out. He knew she'd call out to him, and sure enough, it was only a few seconds later that he heard her voice.

"Tom!"

He turned, and attempted to smile when he saw her. Someone had told him once his smile was more like a deranged leer than anything else, and ever since then he'd had trouble doing it convincingly.

Gracie jogged to catch up with him, her arms laden with two heavy textbooks and what looked like a freshly graded essay. She had gotten an E, exceeds expectations.

"How have you been?" Tom asked casually, even though he already knew.

"Oh, all right," she said with a sigh. "I'm really worried about my recital this month, the Bach isn't coming along as well as I thought it would."

"I thought you were playing something by Beethoven," Tom said, having to feign interest. He didn't give two Knuts about this Bach person, having never heard of him before.

Gracie looked sideways and smiled at him.

"I was," she said. "For last month's."

"Oh… You have a recital every month?" Tom had never played an instrument before, but this sounded like a lot of work.

"Yes," she said. "There's a small chapel down in Hogsmede, that's where they're held. Professor Dumbledore thinks it's a nice thing to do, the concerts."

At the sound of Dumbledore's name, Tom grimaced involuntarily. Luckily, Gracie didn't notice. She was too busy checking the time. Nodding, she walked to the end of the corridor and turned left, starting off down a hallway of empty classrooms. Tom followed.

She went to the end of this hall as well, and stopped at the last door on her right. It was only now that she seemed to notice that Tom was still behind her, and she smiled sheepishly.

"I was going to practice now, it's my free period," she explained, unlocking the door.

"Would you like me to leave?" Tom asked delicately. Gracie shrugged.

"I don't mind if you stay, it'll probably just be boring for you."

"I'd like to listen to you," he replied, and it was true. She beamed, and walked into the room.

A few old tables were pushed against one wall, with a pile of chairs beside them. In the far off corner of the room sat a dusty piano and bench. There was also a rusty metal music stand laden with yellowing sheet music, and a strange-looking rectangular case covered in black fabric.Gracie grinned at the sight, as though it was a long-lost friend, while Tom remained politely indifferent.

She dumped her schoolbag on one of the tables and strode off across the room. Light shone in through the windows, revealing that the air was thick with dust and as Gracie swished in and out of the shadows, the tiny pieces swirled and danced around her like little glimmering jewels. As she knelt beside the odd black case and opened it with a zip and a snap, Tom went after, irritably waving the dust away from his face. Interestedly, he looked over her shoulder to see what was inside the case.

A violin lay inside, hugged close by the molded blue velvet lining of the case. Gingerly, Gracie picked it up and attached the shoulder rest before taking the bow out as well. The light glinted across the violin, seeming to set its already deep red body aflame.

Having never seen a violin before, Tom couldn't help but stare. It was very strange looking, but at the same time absolutely gorgeous.

"You can get one of the chairs from over there if you want," Gracie said, pointing across the room with the bow. Tom nodded and Summoned one, sitting down near the music stand.

"What will you be playing for me today?" he asked, the closest to a joke he had ever gotten before. Gracie giggled and replied,

"Scales to start, and then some Bach and Massenet."

Tom had never heard of either of those people before, and he had no idea that scales also pertained to music, having only ever associated them with fish and snakes before.

Sighing happily, Gracie put the violin under her chin and walked over to the piano. She struck a single note, and then matched it with the violin. Tom watched and listened, mesmerized, as she proceeded to pull the pitches this way and that with the little knobs at the end of the instrument. It was amazing, the control she had over the sound.

After a few seconds she was done and began sorting through the music on the stand, pulling out first a fat book and second a thin sheet. She laid the latter on top of the piano and opened the book on the stand, preparing to play again.

"I'm going to apologize now," she said, looking over her shoulder at Tom. "I haven't been playing for a few days, so there's a good chance I'll sound awful."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Tom said, folding his arms expectantly.

To his delight, it was much more than "fine." The music Gracie coaxed from her violin was mesmerizing; he had never heard anything so amazing in his entire life. He watched in awe of her nimble fingers, dancing across the strings and landing perfectly on top of every note. Knowing very little about music as he did, he still knew that this was a skill that took years to cultivate. It made the prospect of ruining her all the more appealing.

There was only one thing that struck him as out of place: the piece she had chosen. She was such a lighthearted girl, but the piece was dark and intense, but somehow it suited her. He had expected something like a frilly lace gown in music form, a melody that was quick and airy and effortless. What he got was more like a heavy woolen coat.

Gracie finished, and let the last note ring for a moment before putting the violin down. She flipped back a few pages in the music as Tom said,

"That was … enchanting. Which was it?"

"That was the Bach," Gracie said distractedly, putting the violin up again. "It was terrible, I know."

"I didn't think so at all," Tom said diplomatically. "I thought it was-"

Gracie didn't get to find out how extraordinary Tom thought her playing was, however, because at that moment a quiet knock sounded at the door. Both of them turned around to see Dumbledore stepping into the room, looking a little surprised.

"I never expected to see you here, Tom," he said pleasantly as he walked toward the pair of them. "Though Grace's playing is enough to entice anyone."

"I would have to agree," Tom replied stiffly. What was that fool doing here? It was enough that he had to endure the man's lectures during Transfiguration, he certainly didn't need to deal with him in his non-academic pursuits.

"You're being too kind, professor," Gracie said, blushing. "Or else you didn't actually hear me just now. I was awful."

"I can assure you that you weren't," Dumbledore said. "But even so, I'm going to have to ask you to practice some other time. There is a class going on just down the hall, and I'm afraid they can hear you."

Gracie looked embarrassed, and she hurried to put her violin back in its case.

"I'm so sorry!" she said. "I didn't know I was bothering anyone, I didn't mean to…"

"I don't believe you were bothering so much as distracting," Dumbledore said with a smile. "This room will be free during lunch, if you would like to continue your practice then."

Gracie nodded, and then looked to Tom.

"I have Charms homework anyway. I'll see you later, I suppose."

She waved happily and practically skipped out of the room before he could say anything in response.

'Damn,' he thought angrily to himself. Now he was alone with his least favorite professor and he hadn't even gotten that much time with Gracie. This was going dismally.

"I had no idea you were interested in music, Tom," Dumbledore was saying as he too headed toward the door.

"I wasn't until just recently," he said hurriedly, gathering up his books.

"If that's the case then Gracie would be happy to teach you about it. She's an excellent musician, as you no doubt observed."

"I don't need a teacher, I was just listening to her," Tom said defensively. "She is rather good," he added to cover the awkward silence that followed.

"Indeed," Dumbledore mused. They were both in the hallway now, and Tom was quite ready to bolt to his next class even though it didn't start for another half an hour. "She has a recital at the end of this month, on the 28th, did she tell you?"

"She mentioned it," Tom replied indifferently.

"With your newfound appreciation for music, I think it's something you'd enjoy," Dumbledore said. It took everything in him not to snort loudly and inform the professor that he had no idea what he would enjoy. At his silence, Dumbledore added, "And I think Gracie would like to see you there. She seems fond of you."

Tom weighed the options. He suspected Dumbledore would be there, and any extra time with him was barely preferred over being burned alive. But, if it would let him get closer to Gracie, then it just might be worth it.

"Well, if Gracie would want me there, then I'll go," he said firmly, letting that doddering fool know he wasn't going for any other reason.

Dumbledore seemed pleased with this, and started off down the hallway. Tom stared after him for a few moments before setting off for Muggle Studies, his least favorite class. He wouldn't be able to run into Gracie again until well after lunch, and had a large pile of homework besides. His day had taken a turn for the worse, and it put him in a sour mood.

His only hope was that all of his work would pay off, and that the destruction of Gracie would prove to be worth his time.

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_**A/N:**__ Okay, some explanation. This story takes so long to update because a- it's one that I have to be in a certain "mood" to write (read: kind of depressed), and b- I'm straight-up lazy. That said I'm going to try to update a lot in the next few weeks before I go back to school and am planning on keeping this one short. My rough estimate at this point is eight chapters. So yay for being nearly halfway through._

_Reviews are love._


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